


Insidious Truth

by jajafilm



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Crime story - Freeform, Detective Story, Dreams, Dreams vs. Reality, FBI, Roy Mustang is Aaron Hotchner, Roy Mustang | Aaron Hotchner, Secret Identity, Unsub - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jajafilm/pseuds/jajafilm
Summary: Aaron Hotchner dreams of a non-existent country called Amestris. He ignores his ideas and doesn't attach much importance to it. A dream is just a dream, isn't it?! But that is soon to change when he and his team are called to New York to several murder victims.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

# Insidious Truth

_“Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, a veritable butterfly, enjoying itself to the full of its bent, and not knowing it was Chuang Chou. Suddenly I awoke, and came to myself, the veritable Chuang Chou. Now I do not know whether it was then I dreamt I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man.” - Zhuang Zhou_

**Blood.**

**Lots and lots of blood, pain, frustration and a sore pit in the chest. Stunning bitterness and despair that cripples and burns the soul to ashes.**

**Heat, fire, smoke.**

**The pungent smell of burnt bodies and screaming. The force of destruction dormant in his hands, in his palms. Power that was supposed to help and at the same time it only harmed.**

His dreams have always been like that. Terrifying, full of violence, death, supernatural phenomena and beings. He knew this wasn't exceptional in his field. Almost every agent in the field suffered from nightmares, but his were different. It was a continuous story. Each time he closed his eyes as if not asleep but woke up to another dimension, he lived a second life. He told himself that as far as he knew, when he was awake, his name was Aaron Hotchner, it was nothing serious.

But with his wife's death, it all got worse. He tried to rationalize the whole thing in some way. Even in his imagination he had something like a team. Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, who smokes one cigarette after another, Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, who blackmails all people with photos of his wife and daughter, the sensitive muscle man Major Alex Louis Armstrong or Breda, Falman or Fuery didn't remind him of any of his real team, but He saw something from of Reid in Edward and Alphons, and then of course she was there. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, the ideal in which were all the important women of Aaron's life. He saw in her Emily, JJ, Jessica, his mother and Haley. Both Barry and Scar were simply representatives of the evil he knew from his real life. Serial killers, however, who were increasingly less frightening than the whole concept of alchemy and homunculus. Where did this come from? He has always believed and seen it daily in his work, that there is no need to believe in the devil, people are fully capable of destroying and killing themselves on their own. So why did he dream of monsters and something between science and magic? Is it a metaphor, an attempt to see the good in people, to distance oneself from the violence to which he is constantly exposed? If so, why did he have blood on his hands in that dream world too? Did his subconscious try to warn him that he had darkness in him that came to light, when one of his family was wounded? Is he able to beat Foyet with his bare hands to protect his son, as well as to burn the Ishval's people in to ashes, to protect his friends and homeland? If so, then maybe he wasn't better than the unsubs, which he hunted.

He frowned and shook his head. Bad thoughts. It's just nightmares that just don't make sense! He told himself not to think about it, even though he knew he was lying to himself. He did his daily morning routine: he had breakfast, shaved, brushed his teeth, and changed from his pajamas to his suit. Although the FBI did not require him to wear suit, he was used to wearing it from his previous law profession. Damn, it also reminded him of his uniform, making him feel more comfortable.

He arrived at work in advance. Everything indicated a normal day. Reid was already in open-plan office, brewing his morning coffee. Garcia texted him that she had a case for them, and a pile of paperwork was waiting for him in the office, which he didn't want to do. Although, like Aaron Hotchner, he tolerated the administration fairly well, this still didn't mean that, he had no natural resistance to it. But who likes the bureaucracy?

Spencer smiled uncertainly at him as he approached him. “Could you pour me that miracle drink?” he asked the young genius.

“Do you want too?” Reid wondered, but still grabbed another cup from the cupboard.

“Sure. You're not the only agent who'd rather start his morning with coffee than with murder,” before he could stop, an inappropriate joke slipped out of Aaron's mouth. The young genius blinked in surprise, which was exactly the reaction, why Hotch usually held his tongue. It was better when everyone thought that he had no sense of humor than when they understood that he had it, but his jokes is usually very strange. More specifically, it is typically Amestrisian, if such a country actually existed. Hotch sighed inwardly, but it couldn't be taken back.

The rest of the day passed, as always. Penelope called them to the boardroom, where she introduced them to the new case. That was waiting for them in New York. The victims were four men killed by a sniper rifle from a distance. Rossi wondered why they were invited to the case when it looked more like professional organized crime. Then Reid provided statistics on professional killers. Emily thought, that the unsub had no connection to the victims whether or not he is a professional killer. Then the team packed up and flew to a “city that never sleeps”. In their private jet, Hotch handed out tasks. Prentiss and Morgan were tasked with going to at the crime scene after landing, JJ and David were sent to the victims' families, and he and Spencer were to go to the police station and morgue.

Charles Black, the head of the New York police, greeted them with cold courtesy, but gave them everything he could. The problem was that there really was nowhere to start. The victims seemed to have nothing in common, except that they were men. The autopsy also said no more than what they already knew, that the victims had been shot. Due to the fact that the perpetrator attacked from a great distance, he could not be traced well. Time passed and the unsub murdered another man. Black promised that their police expert, Detective Eagley, would help them, and that was exactly the moment it was getting complicated for Aaron. The first time he saw her, his throat tightened, so that he could barely snore. The expert was a brown-eyed blonde who was so similar to Riza, like twin, and in the past she had worked in the army as a sniper. She welcomed him by saluting.

“Sir, the boss said you want my analysis,” she announced and stood there like she had just eaten a very long ruler.

“Yes, I would like you to come with me to the last crime scene,” he said and she just nodded. Then he turned to his subordinate. “And Reid, you stay here and complete the geographic profile,” he ordered.


	2. Chapter 2

Then he with Eagley could drive to the edge of Central Park, where the fifth victim was found. A few minutes after the SUV started, there was an awkward silence in the car. Hotch tried to remember that this woman was definitely not Hawkeye, but he wasn't doing very well. It occurred to him, that if he talked to her and she had a different character than his dream lieutenant, it will bring him back to reality. But how do you start the conversation?

Fortunately, the journey was not long, so in the end the whole ride went without a word. They parked on the 96th Street and walked to The Pool to a place bordered by red and white tape. In an otherwise usually crowded park, one could barely find a living thing that day, which could be explained not only by the fact that a few hours ago there was a murder and people were afraid, but also by quite gloomy weather. It was already dark, it was raining, and the smooth lawn had turned into a brown muddy slush. Even the ducks didn't want to sail around The Pool and preferred to stay at the edge crouching under the large leaves of one of the trees.

“As I wrote in my report. The perpetrator uses a Falcon sniper rifle, caliber twelve whole seven millimeters, range thousand six hundred meters,” Eagley began, looking around. “The shot came from over there,” she pointed to the houses beyond the park.

“You mean, like, one of the trees at the end of the park?” Hotch guessed, but the policewoman shook her head.

“No sir, that wouldn't be very strategic. It's getting dark now and it's raining, but by noon, anyone would be seen in those trees. I think the criminal chose one of those houses,” she replied.

Aaron furrowed expressive black eyebrows. “Isn't it too far?”

“Not for an experienced shooter, which corresponds to the choice of weapon. The Falcon is a rifle made in the Czech Republic by the ZVI armory. It is not common in the USA to get it,” Eagley explained.

“Unsub used it, although it is not very available. Why, because of its quality?” an FBI agent speculated.

“It's not a bad weapon, but I wouldn't choose it. I'd say he's either used to this rifle, or he's had it for a long time,” she replied.

“Thank you, Detective Eagley,” Hotch said and already took his cell phone out his pocket to call Garcia which cameras to hack into.

“Riza,” said the blonde, and he stopped halfway.

“That's my first name. You can call me by my first name,” she offered, but there was no trace of flirtation in her tone. But Hotch could barely notice. Only one word kept repeating in his head: "Riza." It was definitely a strange coincidence. It had to be, or he couldn't explain it. He certainly didn't want to pretend that it was a fate, or that he had met Riza Eagley before, and that his experience had entered his subconscious. Anyway, whether he's crazy or not, he should call Penelope.

She greeted him with her typical cheerful flirting self. “Yes, what does a reat boss ask of from Fount of all Knowledge?” she muttered into the earpiece. If Eagley noticed that their technical analyst was acting strangely, she didn't comment it.

“I need you to go hack all the cameras on Central Park West, 100th, 101th and 102th Street,” he ordered.

“Sure, but it will take a while. Then I'll call you back,” Garcia promised and then ended the call.

When he and Riza returned to the police station, most of his team was already waiting for them, including Reid, who had obviously come up with something. Enthusiastically, he drew everyone into room with map and began his lecture: “You know, we've been thinking about it classically all along. We theorized over whether the victims were killed to order. We thought that the stranger had no relationship with them when choosing a weapon at a great distance… And I draw a geographic profile to determine what space unsub was moving in. Some of those things are right the way to catch the killer, but we haven't seen the simplest and most important thing.” Spencer grabbed a ruler and one of the pens. “We didn't look at the crime scene from a bird's eye view. The first victim, James Smith, died at the intersection between 48th Street and Ditmars Blvd. Ben Brown, our second victim, was murdered on Hamilton Ave.” Reid energetically highlighted both points on the map and then connected them with a line. Hotch wondered how much coffee his young colleague had to drink today. Probably more than it was healthy. However, the doctor continued: “The third crime scene is here at the Myrtle Av bus stop.” At that, Spencer connected all three points on the map to form a triangle. “But the murders didn't end by that. Other victims were Samuel Miller, who died at the intersection of 59th and 64th Street, and Lucas Williams, who died at Pool in Central Park.” He connected the two new points together again. “Do you see it?” he asked, and there was something of a triumph in his tone of voice. However, his colleagues just shook their heads incomprehensibly.

“Emmf, ok.” The young genius nervously tucked one of the chestnut strands that had previously fallen into his face, behind his ear, grabbed his pen again, and began to connect the dots. This time he started at Brown, whom he connected with Williams' crimine scene, continued by line to the first victim, then connected this place with Miller and ended the whole with the Myrtle Av bus stop. A strange shape unfold in front of the BAU team.

“Our unsub doesn't care about the victims, but on places. It has an exact scheme,” Rossi said, slowly beginning to realize what their colleague was trying to tell them.

“So unsub is an occultist? What does the symbol mean?” Morgan wanted to know.

“Nothing yet, but we know the unsub is not over yet.” Reid was drawing again. He created a circle with a center in Gantry Plaza State Park, which connected all the points, and Hotch had an unfortunate suspicion. There was something terribly familiar about the picture.

Meanwhile, Spencer formed a parallel line with the first and second crime scenes and got a new point on the circle, the last missing part of that regular hexagon, and Aaron's entrails gripped in terror. He refused to believe what he saw because it was simply not possible. He felt a weakness in his legs. He had to sit down and close his eyes for just a moment. But he was afraid he wouldn't get the picture out of his head.

“The Star of David, a Jewish symbol, but the hexagram is also a basic hermetic symbol of life, the macrocosm and the sun. Alchemists used it to illustrate the principle of separate and condense. The triangle with the vertex upwards indicates fire and masculine energy, the other opposite water and feminine energy. Their bases are a sign of air and earth. No matter what it symbolizes, the main thing is that –“

“We know where the next murder will happen?” Emily interrupted Spencer's monologue.

“Not only that. I counted, and there are exactly ninety-nine hours between each victim,” Reid finished, and his words somehow calmed Hotch. That's right, it was the Star of David, there was no need to think that it meant anything else. At the thought he could feel a heavy weight falling from his shoulders.

“Alright then. This means that we know when and where the unsub will attack again… And maybe we'll know what he looks like when Garcia goes through all the camera footage. We have three days to prepare. So today we can go to rest and tomorrow we will start preparing a trap,” he ordered, and everyone nodded in agreement.


	3. Chapter 3

After difficult day, Aaron felt tired very drawn and couldn't wait to go to bed. The motel, in which they stayed, wasn't very good. He was greeted by a hard mattress, a few unidentifiable stains on the carpet, and air conditioning, which was better not to turn on, because after he did, a peanut stench came out of it. On the other hand, at least he had room for himself and didn't have to share it, for example, with snoring Rossi or Spencer, who can't sleep without light.

The hot shower was incredibly pleasant. When he got out of the bathroom and was about to cover up by blanket and sleep, there was a knock on the door of his apartment. He grabbed his service weapon, which he tucked behind the rubber of his checkered pajamas, and walked to the door. He glanced through the peephole at the hallway where his femme fatale stood. So he could rest that his uninvited guest wasn't dangerous and open the door.

“I'm sorry to disturb you at night. However, I need to talk to you,” Riza said as he let her go into his apartment.

“You don't have to apologize. What's happening? Reid was wrong and unsub killed again?” he automatically began assuming the worst, or at least what he assumed would be the worst case scenario.

“No, nothing like that. I just wanted to talk about the symbol that the offender makes up,” she said, and Aaron motioned for her to sit in the only chair in the room. He sat down on the bed. “This isn't the Star of David. I was now on Review Ave and 37th Street, and this symbol was drawn on one of the houses.” Riza handed him her cell phone, where she had a photograph stored as evidence. “I also took a look at Lexington tube station and there is a similar symbol. That is the next photo,” she instructed him, and Hotch moved on to the next picture. However, with each word of Eagley, he felt like he was falling into a dream. Into scary and well-known nightmare. His two worlds began to connect, which shouldn't have been possible. Actually, it was absolutely crazy. “I think you know what that means. I'm not an expert in alchemy, but this is –“

“Transmutation Circle,” he exhaled and looked at the blonde in front of him. “Hawkeye,“ he addressed her. She didn't deny her identity, just smiled sadly at him. “Will you follow me in this crazy reality?”

“Even to hell and I'll shoot you in the back if you get out of the way,” The words were a kind song for Roy's ears.

“Thank you,” he said, pausing for a moment. He joined his hands and rested his chin on them in a thoughtful gesture. “If unsub is trying for human transmutation, he must be someone like us. With memories of Amestris ... but what is more important: Why are they trying for something like that? There is no alchemy in this world.

“It doesn't exist or isn't used,” she pointed out.

Hotch got up and walked wordlessly to his suitcase, where he pulled out a pen. At speed on the back of his right hand, he sketched a transmutation circle for flaming alchemy, and then snapped his fingers toward the flower in the vase on the bedside table. But nothing happened, not a single blue petal was burned.

“I don't get it; it should work ... so why is he killing these people?” Lieutenant shook her head. She assumed that the flower in the vase would ignite, so the result of the experiment didn't make sense to her.

“Maybe he's confused. He has all those memories, but unlike us, it made a much bigger mess in his head,” Roy expressed his theory. “Well, I guess we should be glad it doesn't work. At least we don't have to worry about homunculus raving around town, or the possible sacrifice of all of New York if we can't stop the unsub in time.


	4. Chapter 4

_There is only one victim left and everything will be fine. When the moon dies, the cycle will ends and the door to God himself will be opened. Failure wasn't possible, because alchemy was omnipotent. His conscience didn't gnaw at him, because it was an equal exchange. He wasn't afraid of being arrested, because this world was stupid and uneducated._ With those thoughts in mind, Thomas Tringham packed his sniper rifle and set off. He had a well-defined place of his hiding place and where the last one man would be sacrificed. Unlike the last few days, the weather was surprisingly sunny, which meant good visibility. Moreover a lot of people were wandering in Hudson Park, so the conditions were ideal. Believing that he was unnoticed by anyone, he entered to the skyscraper, which it had plaster in imitation bricks. He took the glass elevator to the fifteenth floor, where was a modest maintenance room with a window to the park and two doors. First door led to an elevator, and a shelf with canisters of gasoline and cleaning supplies stood beside them, the second could be reached by stairs. He unfolded his things and then all he had to do was wait.

However, despite finding it impossible, five minutes before the appointed time, he was surprised by two men in FBI bulletproof vests who kicked out the door of his humble room. They both dark hair with a short cut, aimed at him with pistols. He recognized one of them immediately. The face of an older man dressed in a burgundy shirt and genie was well known to him from the covers of famous books on criminal psychology. If he remembered correctly, his name was David Rossi. The other man looked as if he had fallen out of the right agent's catalog. He was wearing a white shirt with a tie, formal black pants, and his attitude exuded cold professionalism and confidence.

“Thomas Tringham, it's over. Put down your weapon,” Rossi ordered him.

“You don't understand that. When I'm done, with the help of a stone, I could revive them again, even more. My brother could live again, I won't give up,” He refused.

This time the second of the agents spoke: “We know what you mean and how confused you are. I get it, I also remember Amestris and I have no idea how I can get back and why I'm here, but I assure you that no alchemy works in this world… and even if it worked, human transmutation is forbidden anyway.”

Thomas froze, _the fed guy knew!_ He could hardly believe his ears. If Rossi was surprised by what David's colleague had said, he showed it only by taking a brief look at the other agent and raising one eyebrow. Apparently the older profiler assumed that his partner was simply mumbling nonsensical sympathetic speech to confuse the perpetrator.

“What, who are you? How do you know about Amestris?” Tringham growled.

“I'm someone like you with too vivid dreams and memories of things that shouldn't be real. My name here is Aaron Hotchner, also known as Roy Mustang in the past life,” he introduced himself to the unsub Hotch, but he shouldn't have done that.

This obviously upset Thomas, instead of calming down and showing interest in Aaron's words. He growled something remotely resembling: “Bloody State Alchemist.” Then he threw a smoke grenade under the two agents. The small room quickly began to fill with pungent smoke. Tringham headed for the elevator, but Flame Alchemist, accustomed to the smoke, didn't let himself be scattered and fired at the shelf next to the door. Gasoline and cleaning agents formed a dangerous flammable explosive mixture, which cut off the perpetrator from one of the escape routes and had to get through the agents. But Thomas wasn't afraid of it. Before anyone could recover, he took the opportunity to quickly change direction. He pushed away the choking Rossi brutally and ran to the stairs. Roy immediately followed him. There was a crazy chase down the stairs, in which, however, younger and more physically fit unsub was better. The situation wasn't helped by a siren and a fire shower, installed in the building, which launched immediately after their fight on the fifteenth floor. Hotch slipped between the first floor and the ground floor, and could only watch helplessly as Tringham descended the last few stairs, ran across the hall, ran out of the building, and fell to the ground on the sidewalk in front of the skyscraper.

Shortly afterwards, he heard Eagley in his ear: “Target destroyed.” So he could rest and scramble to his feet again.

He walked slowly to Thomas, who was obviously still alive. Riza shoot him into legs. “I confirm,” he snorted into the radio. “However, we will need an ambulance and firefighters.”

“I've already arranged that,” he heard Garcia's voice for a change now. Rossi, who wasn't as far behind them as it might seem, had already run up to him.

“Good shot,” David commended the policewoman. “Don't you want to come to us, to FBI?”

“I'll make a request. After all, I can't have him set fire to buildings unattended,” Hawkeye allowed herself to joke into handset. Hotch snorted. Damn Amestrisan sense of humor!

_“I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?” ― John Lennon_


End file.
